Plain Band

On Friday, there's going to be a little plain band around my finger that says "taken".
More than anything it's a reminder of a very calm, warm kind of connection that I have with somebody.
Somebody I love.
It's overwhelming.

Flexible.

I'm not feeling well right now.
I know it'll go away but I miss your company-
Only you can pull off poetry, at night, in nuweiba'
and i miss that.

I wish planning wasn't an important thing.
That we'd all be more like beduins.
and then we could hitch-hike and walk along the beach till we reach a city we don't know the name of and then suddenly,
I will stop and realize how much you've been there
how present.

And we could wear the same thing every day
and smoke
we could even keep little note-books that are red and black.
each of us one, a pen and a pencil with an eraser that either got torn from violent usage or just caved in too much that you miss it.

That.

I thought you knew

Everyone has a good story to tell. It shouldn't be based on how well they can tell the story that you love them.

forgot the punchline - it's a delicacy

let yourself be, but expect others to be others, in all senses of the word.

Circles

Circles, also known as schemes -- ways of analyzing recurrent themes in one's life.

These are some observations I have collected. excuse my bad organization and my cynical approaches.

---
Me:

family is the first kind of role model.
my family is a certain way. It operates on a certain dynamic.
i take that through life.
my father has life goals. he doesn't like going anywhere without knowing exactly where he's going. he likes to plan. he gives a 70% chance that his plans fail and when they do, he plans again.
i planned a whole life, the plan failed, i planned a whole life again. (i just might get really lost at 40)

my mother is a giving person. she identifies herself with what makes her warm and fuzzy. she identifies family through love. who's gonna stick around?
to her, some people have been more like family than her own family.
she despises history and she doesn't think much of old pictures because what's important is what will stay through the fire.
i treated people like family and treated family like people.
my mother was disappointed, and so was i. (i might be stabbed in the back)

my father thinks that things that happen to you, things you're forced into are kinder than things that you choose wrong.
this passed year has been kinder to me than anything I've chosen. (i just might get really lost at 30)

----

*
my mother thinks family will always be family, she left friends and only kept one or two. she doesn't believe in home and has learned to leave behind whatever could be left behind.
i embrace a home whenever convenient but i know i will never find one. i think the only real promise is that of forever and it's the only one i would never break. i leave people before they leave me -one way or another.
(just might end up alone with my own true love)

---
+
My father thinks the only way of communication is physical. His anger is a fight, his peace is sleep.
Violence is not something I choose, it is the way in which i express myself.

---

And so, ways of life which we take from our family, general outlines - we deny them but how far car the apple fall from the tree.
for most people I have seen, their father or mother is most loved but is indeed a nightmare. like, i would never want to be my father/mother. i feel outcast for wanting to be both of my parents if i could. i would absolutely love to repeat SOME of their mistakes that played a role in their being so happy. such happy people, as happy as this life can get, really. and i'm not talking old couple kissing in the park, i'm talking taking a moment when you wake up to realize people who want to thank you are too many to count or to realize that in such a series of unfortunate events, you ended up with textures around you that make staying at home and laughing your nervousness away even more irresistable than ever, especially after having faught so hard with yourself to quit smoking!
how could i not want to be these two?
from the outside is just as good as from the inside!

who would want others' ? others?

and if they do, have they chosen it?

and they haven't, do they regret the force in which it comes?

both of them are really forgiving, it's no wonder i can't hold a grudge too long. both of them REALLY don't learn and that's why wounds heal ohh so slow.
and, I'm o.k with being a bad copy, i don't crave originality i really don't. a bad copy is all i aspire to be! a bad copy of the 70's is most fashionable now and i am certainly fashionable.

do you want to be your mother? do you want to be your father?
then how come you're always moving?
do you want to be your father? well how come you still dance?
do you want to be make a family? then why won't you get naked in front of me?

Tree-Hugger

Isn't it funny?

Celebrations and The Room (literallyy)

To my room- my separate world, those who visited and those who never will.

Somewhere in my room lies a book with the same title.
Today I am celebrating myself, my being.
Yesterday, today and tomorrow I am celebrating everything that I am. Young, strong, loved, enabled, supported, understood.
I celebrate my understanding of gray that once handed me the wrong map but is now a friend, a prop.
I celebrate friends I have lost to time. I celebrate friends I have lost to ignorance. I celebrate friends that I have lost to any and each of seven deadly sins.
Each of them at times, in small doses.

I celebrate my disappointments that only teach me to ask too much, again.
I celebrate my greed, lust for life.

I celebrate my growing up, my ongoing rite of passage. My growing out of people and into myself again. My recognizing myself through people whom I'm not. My recognizing myself through people I love, people who share my inability to change, or my ability to change myself.

Mythical characters.
One of which turns out to be my threshold guardian, and I hers.

Homecomings, epic journeys and epic waiting!

I celebrate her light luggage, her memory loss.
I celebrate her teaching me light luggage and memory loss.

Mythical characters.
One of which is my helper. He stands quietly and disappears often.

I celebrate his abridged wisdom and his assertive tones.
I celebrate his disappearing on me when I don't need him.

Mythical characters go on and on. They are those who are dearest to me.